The WAGs Suite
by CharWright5
Summary: James wasn't sure what was more anxiety inducing: the game itself, or watching it in the suite set aside for the wives and girlfriends of the Wild players while wearing the jersey of the only openly gay player in the NHL, who he was in a secret relationship with. AU, hockey oneshot.


_**A/N: T**__his started out as a lil drabble that came to mind while watching a hockey game, then as I wrote it, it got longer and longer and longer... Anyhoo, I'm not entirely sure who the Wild's rival is, because I saw online somewhere that it was the Flames, then NBCSportsNet's Rivalry Night is the Wild and Blackhawks, so I don't even know. Maybe it's both? *shrugs* But point being, this fic just says "their rival team" so that's why it's unnamed, 'cause I have no clue. Also, I just have a thing for Kendall being a hockey player and James wearing his jersey. I think it's so cute and sweet 3_

Minnesota Wild is property of itself and the NHL, which is in turn property of itself as well. I didn't name any Wild players on purpose (PARISEEEEEEEEE! WHYYYYYYYYY?! *cries hysterically*) so no ass covering needed there. Oh and this is AU, meaning there's no BTR, but they're still friends

* * *

James Diamond was gonna have a panic attack. He wasn't exactly sure what the cause of said anxiety induced breakdown was, but he was pretty damn sure it was gonna happen.

Cause number one could be the game he was currently watching, a back and forth battle between his beloved Minnesota Wild and their rivals. The lead had changed so many times his head was spinning, now stuck in a four-four tie with only a minute left in overtime. Fights had broken out, fists flying, blood being left on the ice, and now it had come down to these final sixty seconds of game time.

Because thinking about a shoot-out was too much for his brain to handle.

But that wasn't the only reason for his freak out, as good a reason it was. No, the other part, the part that was constantly at the back of his mind, the part that was buzzing about like an annoying mosquito on a sweltering day, the part that was shoved to the back of his mind while he swore down at a ref for a missed tripping violation, was the location of _where_ exactly he was watching the game from: the WAGs suite. As in the Wives And Girlfriends of the Wild players. As in the suite set aside for the women who are fucking the athletes.

Oh and he just happened to be wearing the jersey of the first and only openly gay hockey player in the NHL.

Okay, everything could be easily explained away. He could be in that suite cause he was invited by one of the WAGs. After all, he had spent a good amount of time conversating with the fiancée of one of the defensemen and pretending to know what the Russian wife of the first line right winger was saying. And the jersey wasn't that big a deal since pretty much everyone and their mom knew he'd grown up and was best friends with Kendall Knight, so him wearing a number 13 jersey was just him supporting his buddy. Nothing really was out there screaming that the two of them had been a couple on the downlow for the past decade, so James had nothing to worry about.

But still he found himself constantly paranoid that everyone knew or were about to figure it out. The threats of physical violence and "I swear to fucking god I will go to your house and destroy everything you love, ya lil shit!" that he called out when Kendall was roughed up probably were a huge sign, especially considering the raised eyebrows those phrases garnered him. But if any of the WAGs had a problem with it or were questioning why a pop star was in their suite rather than his own private one, they said nothing, simply allowing the male to hang out and enjoy the game-well, enjoy it when the Wild were leading.

But just because they were silent at that moment didn't mean they'd always be that way. Women gossip and that shit spread like wildfire, something James had learned the hard way after accompanying a female rock star named Lucy Stone out to dinner to discuss a possible duet, only to wake up to screaming voicemails from his boyfriend asking how the fuck the brunet could betray the blond that way. It took three hours, countless pleads, and a vow on his lucky comb that he hadn't, nor would he ever, cheat on Kendall. Then it was another hour of phone calls with his publicist, Lucy's publicist, an in person meeting, and a few tweets to dispel rumors of a blossoming romance between the two musicians.

But he still felt like that one rumor had done irreparable damage to his relationship with Kendall, the blond seeming more distant and wary on phone calls and Skype sessions. The hockey star had been hurt, questioning again why he singer couldn't just come out already, that if he could do it as a member of an NHL team and Minnesota's new favorite son, then so could James, names like Clay Aiken and Adam Lambert and Melissa Ethridge being thrown around. But James couldn't do it, wasn't ready. He'd worked hard to build his sex god status and he'd be damned if he gave it up. Coming out might've been easy for Kendall, with his non-judgmental family and supportive teammates but the brunet didn't have that same luxury, years of Brooke Diamond's disapproval wearing on him. Her son being gay wasn't accepted, adding to his paranoia that the world would turn his back on him just as she had. Kendall had muttered out a "fuckin' idiot" before hanging up.

That was three days ago. They hadn't spoken since.

Talks with his friends hadn't helped, Logan Mitchell only repeating what Kendall had said about James' intelligence, adding a "you know how to fix this", Carlos Garcia nodding in agreement in that serious way he rarely got. And, yeah, sure, James _did_ know how to fix it; he just wasn't sure if he actually could do it.

Which brought him to his current state of paranoia at that game, a game that had gone to overtime, a game that was now going to a shoot-out, a game James was sure was gonna be the death of him. If Kendall's uncontrollable anger and rage blackouts didn't end him first. But until the inevitable moment of his life coming to its conclusion, James was still stuck there, wavering between anger of his own at the refs and various members of the other team; elation at the Wild-and Kendall-scoring, drawing penalties, or winning a fight; and anxiety that someone would know he was a huge flaming homo and a fraud.

He was literally on the edge of his seat, knees bouncing, elbows resting on them as his steepled fingers sat in front of his face. The line ups for the shoot-out was announced. Kendall was third for the Wild, sixth overall. James was gonna puke.

A small hand rested between his shoulders, his head turning to see the wife of the Wild's captain, a woman who had clearly been through this situation countless times judging by the ease in her body language and the sympathetic smile on her face. "Kendall will be fine. He's got a great backhand deke."

James knew this already, was well aware that the blond had a great backhand deke and forehand deke and could fake a goalie out without blinking. He could go top shelf, could go five-hole, could go to the right but shoot it in the left side of the goal. James knew this because he'd witnessed Kendall learning these tricks, perfect them. He'd skated alongside the younger male in countless hockey games, played one-on-one on the frozen pond in James' backyard, practiced slapshots on Kendall's street during the summer.

But that was junior shit, peewee hockey and high school championships. This was the NHL, the premiere league, the highest standards of hockey players in the world. And in the goal wasn't their affectionate and bubbly best friend Carlos; this was a man who'd been in the league since James discovered the wonders of hair mousse at age thirteen, a man who was consistently nominated for a Vezina Trophy for best goalie of the season, a man who had stopped thirty-seven other shots in that very game. Chances were he'd seen every trick in the book-including some of Kendall's from earlier in that match and ones before it. He could stop the blond easily.

But James didn't voice any of that out loud. He just gave a small smile in response to what she had said, wondering why she had even worded it that way. Sure, he'd be worried about his buddy playing well-which he was since a good playing Kendall made for a far less cranky Kendall-but his visible nervousness could be due to a fear over the whole team losing. He'd never made it a secret that he was a Wild fan, it being public knowledge that he was from Minnesota and rooted for his home state teams, so his worry could just as easily be about the entire club's win-loss record and not one player's goal total.

So why she had singled out Kendall was beyond James' comprehension.

He turned his head back to the rink, trying to focus instead on the shoot-out rather than the hand that had rubbed his shoulder blades then patted him before being removed. He tried focusing on the players on the ice as they prepared themselves, instead thinking about what the WAG had just said to him, about his current location inside Xcel Energy Center, about his last conversation with Kendall and the hurt the blond was obviously feeling but not voicing.

Seemed like keeping shit to themselves was a major problem in their relationship.

He watched as the Wild's goalie caught the first shot, only for the other netminder to stop the first Minnesota attempt. Two more zeroes, one from each team, and it was down to the final shooters to win the game.

James felt his heart racing out of control, his palms sweaty, stomach twisting, mind sending thoughts to a deity he was never sure was even there. He thought back to other times he'd felt that same mix of adrenaline and anxiety: his first time having sex with Kendall, his first time _ever_ really; his first solo performance after signing his record deal; the high school talent show; when he and Kendall had made a bet during what was supposed to be a friendly bowling match that had turned into a debate over whether or not it was a date. If the blond made three strikes in a row, it was a date; if not, it was two friends just hanging out and they both forget the brunet's drunken love confession from the night before. Kendall had gotten four in a row and they officially became a couple.

Now, nearly a decade later, James was feeling that same nauseating combination of hope and fear at the outcome, giving himself an ultimatum, just as Kendall had during their sophomore year of high school. If the blond made his shot, the brunet was gonna come out to the world. It didn't matter if the Wild won or lost-although it would be a helluva whole lot better if they won so his post-game conversation with Kendall would go easier and with a slimmer chance of something being hurled at the singer-all that mattered was whether or not Kendall scored.

James wasn't entirely sure what outcome he was hoping for. Both had their pros and cons, both could potentially change his future.

The Wild's goalie easily knocked away the opposing player's shot with his skate, meaning the other team had gone oh-for-three in the shoot-out. It was up to Kendall to either win the whole thing for Minnesota, or force it into another round of shots with another player on each team.

James inhaled deeply, holding it in, eyes glued to Kendall as the blond stood center ice, stick in hand. The hockey player puffed his cheeks up, blowing the air out harshly, steadying himself and his nerves. It always had amazed the brunet how the younger male managed to remain so calm, managed to keep a cool head in such high stress situations. He wasn't even playing but he felt like he was gonna pass out or puke or both. And that was before he factored in the possibility of a public announcement of his homosexuality.

The ref gave the signal, Kendall nodding once before skating forward to collect the puck from the blue line. The entire arena held its breath in anticipation, James included. Or was he hyperventilating? He wasn't quite sure.

But the blond remained calm, skating forward, controlling the puck with an ease that spoke volumes on experience and a natural talent that had made Carlos jealous and James fall in love more. Kendall was graceful, gliding along the ice like he'd been born to do it. Probably was.

The brunet leaned forward, slightly raising off the seat to get a better view, his heart pounding so hard he was surprised it hadn't burst out and landed on the rink. But a relaxed Kendall just glided along smoothly, puck on stick, faking left, right, left again, only to flick the frozen rubber up and go top shelf. The puck went over the goalie, who had dropped down to close the gap between his legs and block the sides, hitting the top of the net. Kendall had scored.

The entire arena erupted, thousands jumping to their feet, arms in the air, joyous screams being let out in exultation, James included. He'd shot out of his seat the second the puck hit net, a loud "fuck yeah!" being drowned out by the buzzer, by the celebratory song blasting from the PA system. A dull roar was in his ears, noises fading to the background. He was vaguely aware that he was yelling, loud proclamations of "that's my man! That's my fuckin' baby! Fuckin' LOVE him right now!" But he didn't care. His boyfriend had scored the game winning goal and his pride outweighed any consequences that may or may not come from what he was subconsciously screaming.

Hugs were given all around, the WAGs congratulating him and telling him how great his man was. Not that James needed to be told that. He'd been aware of that fact for two and a half decades. He just needed to tell the world he knew.

* * *

It was nearly an hour before James finally got to see Kendall. He'd spent spent the time on pins and needles in the family lounge in the arena, located near the locker room. The media has come and gone, the singer thankful he hadn't been spotted, that no attention had been brought to him. That night belonged to Kendall. Tomorrow on the other hand...

Players began to trickle into the lounge, meeting up with their significant others, receiving congratulations and job well dones before leaving to their homes. James rose from the couch where he'd been seated, exchanging goodbyes with the few females he'd become acquainted with that evening, before leaving the lounge, choosing to wait outside the locker room. Kendall had no idea the brunet was there, mainly because James had no idea he'd be there himself. It'd been a near last minute idea, the singer calling in a favor with the blond's roommate's girlfriend in order to get into the game, since Kendall still wasn't answering his phone. At least not when James called.

He scuffed his feet on the ground as he leaned back against the wall, eyes glued to the cement he was standing on, head tilting up in hope every time he heard the locker room door across from him open. Only to have disappointment force his head down.

It seemed like he waited in that hallway longer than he had in the lounge but finally Kendall emerged. He was smiling wide, laughing at something a teammate had said as they walked through the threshold, hair still wet, dark green hoodie and grey sweatpants on, duffel hanging off his left shoulder. And god he looked good. His eyes were sparkling, nose wrinkled, smile wide and genuine. A light air was hanging off him, the joy of winning surrounding him, the fact that he'd helped his team with two goals-including the game-winner-making him practically glow.

Until his head turned and he saw James.

The brunet pushed away from the wall, stepping forward, nervous grin on his face as he gave a small wave and a weak "hey, Kendall."

The blond's face had fallen, the smile gone, the light in his eyes vanished, a dullness taking over, like someone had closed the blinds on the sun. He halfway paid attention as he said his goodbyes to his teammate, the other male heading off to the player parking lot, leaving the couple alone in the hallway.

Well, not entirely alone. Seemed Awkwardness and Guilt had decided to make themselves known.

The singer cleared his throat, licked his lips, knowing he needed to say something but not entirely sure what to start with. A million thoughts were racing through his mind and he couldn't seem to get a hold of any one long enough to voice it. Didn't seem to matter though. Kendall spoke up first.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, arms folded over his lean chest. He had never been overly muscular, although he was definitely cut, but he seemed to have gotten wider, more built since being drafted.

But it wasn't his build that James was focusing on. It was the cold distance in his voice.

"Came to see you play," the singer answered honestly, thinking it was pretty obvious. "And to talk to you."

"There's nothing you could say that I wanna hear right now." Kendall's words cut like a knife straight into James' heart and the way the blond's jaw was set, he was clearly aware of this. Giving one last hard look at the singer, the hockey player dropped his arms and turned away, heading in the same direction his teammate had just gone.

"Then check your Twitter mentions," James called after him, watching the blond stop and turn back to him, thick brows furrowed in confusion.

"Why?" he questioned, taking hold of his duffel strap with his left hand. "I can pretty much guess what they are. A whole lotta congrats and comments on my shoot-out goal."

James lifted a hand, running it through his hair, a sure sign of his nervousness, of his frustration, of any emotion getting to be too much for him. "Just," he started then paused, unsure of what to say in order to get the other male to actually do what he requested. Kendall was as stubborn as a bull, especially when pissed, and it was unlikely that he even wanted to be around the brunet, much less do what was asked. "Please. You might like what you see."

Kendall let out a harsh sigh, rolling his eyes as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his smartphone, green eyes glued to the screen as he actually did what James wanted him to.

The singer stood there, awkward, nervous, impatient. He needed the athlete to see what he'd tweeted, needed him to know that the pop star had told the world how proud he was of his boyfriend and how in love he was, needed him to see that he'd actually used the words "boyfriend" and "love".

There was also a second tweet about congratulatory sex but that didn't matter at that moment.

He knew when Kendall had found it when those green eyes went wide, when that strong jaw dropped, when that mop-topped head jerked up to look at the brunet, face full of a million thoughts. He was shocked, unsure, happy, scared, countless emotions all at the same time. A lot like how James was feeling.

The brunet swallowed hard, waiting for the blond to make the first move, despite the fact that he was dying to just march over and take the other male in his arms. They'd been apart for too long, James on tour and Kendall in Minnesota playing hockey. And the fact that those green eyes of the athlete were shiny with unshed tears made that urge all the more stronger.

"You," Kendall started shakily, voice weak, hand trembling as he held his iPhone. "You came out?"

James nodded, smoothing his hair down, nervous smile back on his face. "Yeah. Also outted us as a couple. Hope you don't mind."

"Why?"

"Well, you might not be okay wi-"

"No," the blond interrupted. "I mean, why did you come out? And on Twitter?"

James shrugged as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his jersey bunching up around his wrists. "For you. You're more important to me than any record deal or singing career. I don't care what anyone thinks anymore. The only opinion that matters to me is yours. And I did it on Twitter 'cause going through my publicist would take too long and I want the world to know that I have the greatest hockey player in the world as my boyfriend and how proud I am of his accomplishments tonight and how grateful I am that I get to call him mine."

That huge beaming smile came back to Kendall's face, the light of before accompanying it. His duffel bag slid off his shoulder, dropping onto the floor unceremoniously, the thud echoing off the walls. Without hesitation, he ran to the brunet, practically jumping onto him. James was able to catch him, one leg going back to stop himself from falling over from the force of the blow. The blond's legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, the brunet easily holding him up.

"I love you," the athlete stated, chin on the singer's shoulder, hugging him tightly. "I love you so fuckin' much."

The pop star smiled, face hurting from how big it was, arms going tighter around his boyfriend. The anxiety was gone, the paranoia, no risk of a panic attack anymore. Kendall was in his arms, no longer mad, saying once again that he was loved. It was all he needed to breathe.

"I love you, too," James replied, kissing the hockey player's jaw. "And now the world knows and I just wanna keep tellin' 'em 'til everyone's annoyed."

Kendall laughed then sniffed, James pulling his head back to see his boyfriend grinning but crying. Cupping the younger male's cheek, he wiped away a falling year before kissing him sweetly. And the blond kissed back, neither man caring that they were in the middle of a hallway where anyone could come out and see them.

They soon parted, Kendall sliding down onto his feet, his grin turning into a more mischievous smirk. Hands fisting his boyfriend's jersey, he licked his lips as green eyes locked onto hazel ones. "Now, I do believe there was a second tweet about celebration sex."


End file.
